I’m travelling on a Melbourne train – I’m in Melbourne this week with my daughter – and I see a tampon on the floor. Where had it come from? Was it the girl sitting with her ipod in staring out the window… maybe she’s too self conscious to pick it up… Was it the boy who maybe picked up his sister’s backpack which had a hole in the bottom and it fell out and he hasn’t even noticed it falling to the floor…

How long has it been there? How many stops has it travelled?

We reach Parliament and the girl gets up and kicks it under my chair.

Is it a sign? I have cursed you with the lone tampon! Forever bloodless shall ye be. Too late buddy – I’ve already been fixed. Ironic it has landed under my chair.
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And yet I feel uncomfortable. People might think it is mine. This pristine white plastic wrapped object which screams its presence from the floor. I laugh and say loudly “Hey a tampon on the train!”

We get up to leave at Flinders Street station. We leave the tampon on the floor. Who are we to interrupt its journey. It’s escaped from its pale blue or pink box and sought freedom. Where will it end up? Perhaps all the way to Epping. Perhaps it will be kicked out onto the platform and onto another train. Maybe some poor desperate girl will see it and thank the universe for rescuing her from an awkward dilemma hopefully in time…

Good luck little friend, and may you live in wholesome fulfillment.